


We Bought a New Beginning

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Can you believe it?, Confused Jack Kline, Contractor Dean Winchester, Cute, Gen, Jack Feels, Jack's POV, Kid Jack Kline, M/M, Me Writing First Person? Unheard Of, Minor Somewhat Descriptive Depiction of an Injury, POV First Person, Single Parent Castiel, We Bought a Zoo AU, Zoo, Zookeeper Castiel, based on a movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 13:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: They call me Jack of the Jungle at school.I can't really blame them. My dad and I own 15 birds, 12 monkeys, 10 llamas, 9 snakes, 7 porcupine, five sloths, four giraffes, three lions, and an elephant.Alternatively, the We Bought a Zoo AU you didn't know you needed in your life until now.





	We Bought a New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> HI! I know it's only been two weeks, but I feel like it's been a year, since I typically post a lot sooner. It feels so good to post again. It's been... crazy... for lack of a better term. But I do have another fic idea I plan on taking to the writing stage very soon, so expect that.
> 
> Love ya'll <3

They call me Jack of the Jungle at school.

I can't really blame them. My dad and I own 15 birds, 12 monkeys, 10 llamas, 9 snakes, 7 porcupines, five sloths, four giraffes, three lions, and an elephant.

I keep telling Dad to get a camel, but I guess Overland Park isn’t ideal for camels. Camels like sucky environments, like deserts, so they can... do whatever camels do. Seriously, a camel would be _way_ happier here. Overland Park has a bunch of parks—even a water park, museums... ducks?

Okay, maybe this isn’t the most exciting place to live, but it still beats hot sand between your toes.

“Jack, did you feed the panda?”

Oh yeah. We have a panda too. His name is Norman. Dad has a strict rule about not naming the animals. He doesn’t want me getting attached to them if they get sick or moved to another zoo (his nice way of saying they died). He’s been like this since Mom passed away a year ago, around the same time he bought the zoo. So I call the panda Norman when he’s not around.

“Yeapp,” I reply.

“And the snakes?”

“Yeapp.”

“Lions?”

“Brushed and fed.”

Dad pauses on cutting the onions. I wish enchiladas fixed more than hunger. Dad’s happy, but he’s not _happy_ happy. The smiles around his eyes aren’t as noticeable anymore. His mouth smile is thin. He doesn’t have the smile underneath his chin anymore at least, but that’s because he’s been so busy getting the zoo set up for its first opening weekend. If it wasn’t for me being a “growing boy”, he probably wouldn’t be eating at all.

“You’re the best,” he says.

“And homework?”

I shrug. “Not too bad. The math lesson is a little harder this week. I’ll ask Mr. Redfield about it tomorrow.”

Dad sets the knife down and turns around; crossing his arms in a way I know is saying something. I’m not sure what.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand my dad. I’m not even sure he understands _himself._

“What?” I ask.

Dad raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can take a crack at it, is that it?”

“No, Dad, it’s—”

“You may think I’m so ancient, I was learning how to inscribe long division on a stone wheel, but I’ll have you know I was in the top of my class back in the day,” he continues, moving towards the dining table. He snatches my math packet and plucks his reading glasses from his dark, messy head of hair. I hate to even burst his bubble of newfound confidence when he asks, “What’re we looking at? Algebra, Geometry?”

“Physics.”

“Oh, Physics!” His face lights up even more. “I loved physics! Let me guess, word problems that involve...”

Well, at least his eyes are smiling again. Even if they’re squinting.

“The deginate integral with regards to absolute values,” I finish.

Dad slowly sets my packet down. He bites his lip before pushing through a forced smile. “Well, kiddo, I’m proud of you for asking for help. I’m sure you’ll figure it out like you always do.”

I smile back, even though mine is forced too.

Yeah, I think, like I always do.

~.~

I’ve seen Dad stressed two times in my life.

The first time happened when I was seven. We were watching _Spider-Man_. You know the scene. Before Mary-Jane even touches Peter Parker’s mask, Dad’s hands were covering my eyes. I swear, it’s like my dad has his own Spidey-senses or something. Except he’s not as discreet as Peter Parker. He started singing “Yankee Doodle Dandy” at the top of his lungs until the scene was over.

The second time was two years later, when something called the stock market crashed. All I know is Dad worked at a bank and had a lot of really pissed off people to deal with.

Today marks the third time—and for good reason. It’s a week before the grand opening of our zoo and Dad was just told the fencing for the lion enclosure is a foot below the minimum height for safety. Not only do we not have the money, we don’t have the time. _And_ it’s a weekend.

Dad calls every fencing company in Overland Park. By some miracle, one picks up, and I can hear the man’s voice through Dad’s phone. I wonder how much of it is influenced by the static and how much is actually Bruce Wayne forgetting to break character until Dad exhales.

“Oh my God,” he says, “thank you. Thank you so much. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You always tell me not to use God’s name in vain, so this must be good,” I say.

Not even God can keep Dad’s smile when he shakes his head. “Well they’re going to have to come by tomorrow to see it and give an estimate of how long it’ll take. It’s not a solution, but it’s a start.”

“Can’t we push back the opening date?” I suggest. “Mr. Deveraux always pushes back our test dates because he’s behind on grading.”

Dad laughs, but it’s more defeated than anything. “No, I’m afraid not, kiddo. We’ve already sold two hundred tickets.”

“Well, we’ll figure it out, right?”

Dad’s smile is small again when he squeezes my shoulder, but I’ll take it. “Yeah. Like we always do.”

~.~

I know they’re here when a truck pulls up. It’s got this rattle about it that kinda sounds like a continuous burp. Even Ophis, my black rat snake, lifts his head from where he’s wrapped around my arm. Ophis doesn’t like anything that reminds him of an earthquake. He’s survived one in Oklahoma, and that’s all it took for him to develop a phobia.

I hear a second car pull up and heavy boots putting Rice Krispies cereal to shame on the driveway gravel. A few minutes later, my dad’s suddenly booming voice greets them. I don’t recognize two of the men by their voice, but the third one couldn’t be more obvious if he was shining his Bat signal.

Carefully, I approach the door, cracking it open just a smidge.

“Yeah, they just updated their regulations last week,” Bruce Wayne says. He’s a tall guy. A little bit taller than Dad. He’d probably be even taller if his legs weren’t so bent. “Luckily, you’re only looking at three-hundred square feet of fencing.”

“Three-hundred?” Dad repeats. “I thought it was two-forty.”

“It _was_ two-forty.”

I hear my dad sigh. “Okay. I guess that’s another thing then. How much are we looking at?”

“Considering the height of the fence and the square footage, easily over three-grand.”

I can’t see him, but I know Dad is scrubbing his hand over his mouth. He did the same thing when Mom was diagnosed with cancer. It was like he was trying to clean his mouth of everything bad he’d ever said. Or in this case, everything bad he _wants_ to say.

Bruce licks his lips and drops his head before he says, “I’ll have Jesse and Cesar pull the truck up. We’ll map out the new enclosure and give you an exact price.”

I frown. Sometimes I wish I was old enough to have a job. I wouldn’t feel as powerless as I do now. I’d be able to have the money Dad needs—and not to mention, I’d be around Ophis more. All Dad would have to worry about is being happy. I just wanna see him happy.

The burping truck pulls into the lot. It’s so loud now; I can feel it rumbling in my chest. Ophis must feel it too, because he leaps from my arm and slithers through the small crack in the door.

“Ophis. _Ophis!”_ I rage-whisper. The truck’s taillights light up white. Panic floods through me. Ophis is right underneath the back tire.

In a second, I’m out the door and crying, “ _Stop! Stop!”_

But they don’t hear me. I’m not even sure _I_ hear me. All I know is the back of my arm grazes the back of the crusty tire and Ophis is back in my hands again.

“Jack!” Dad exclaims, rushing to my aid. “What’re you doing?!”

“Ophis was in danger! I had to save him!”

“You _know_ you shouldn’t take Ophis out of his cage.”

“It’s not like he was gonna bite!” I argue. “He’s non-venomous!”

“Yes, but you being seriously injured or killed would’ve bitten _me.”_

“What’s going on?”

I turn my head to the new voice and come face-to-face with Bruce Wayne. He’s much more intimidating up close. Like Dad, his smile lines are ironed out except for the tight V of his eyebrows and the creases around his unsmiling mouth. I don’t get what turns adults so serious. Maybe I will when I’m an adult. But if adults are always this unhappy, I don’t think I wanna grow up.

“Is that a snake?”

I glance down at Ophis and back up again at him. “Yeapp.”

Though the man’s face has gone completely white, he still forces a smile—another thing adults are good at, as I’ve come to notice. “Cool. Yeah, that’s, um…”

“Dean, this is my son, Jack,” Cas sighs, “Jack, Dean.”

Dean extends his hand, but retracts it quickly when Ophis hisses at him.

“ _Okay,_ ha-um… nice to meet you,” he says, voice easily raising two octaves.

I grin. Ophis has a way of bringing out a unique side of people.

“Sorry,” Dad says, “he loves snakes.”

“Well you’re one step ahead of Indiana Jones in finding the lost ark,” Dean comments.

I tilt my head in a way I apparently get from my dad, along with everything else. “Who’s that?”

Dean’s V softens into an underarching U, and I’m self-conscious again under his gaze. His green eyes feel like the entire Earth staring at me. I always get teased at school for not understanding some pop-culture references as is. “Legendary historian? Played by Han Solo?”

“Han Solo was a historian?”

“Well, not… never mind.”

“Do you have kids?” Dad asks Dean.

“No, I don’t.” He turns towards the enclosure again, then back at us with a grin of his own. “But I do have a niece. Tell you what, her birthday is in a few days, and I’m the worst uncle on the face of the planet. If you can spot me a few tickets, I’ll get my men back out here tomorrow and we’ll put up this fencing up by Thursday, free of charge.”

Dad’s so excited, he fumbles over his words: “I, uh—yeah. Yes! But… are you sure?? The tickets are only twenty a piece. I don’t want to take advantage of you or your company.”

“Take as much advantage as you want,” Dean replies, and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t meant for my ears. I’m not even sure Dean meant to _say_ it by the way he’s blushing. “Really, it’s the least I can do. And lions are her favorite, so I’d be doing her a disservice if I didn’t protect them at all costs.”

“You’re seriously saving my… _backside_ ,” Dad says as he lends out his hand. Dad’s a firm believer in not repeating the words I’ve heard from the mouths of so many kids at school, and he hasn’t slipped up yet. I kinda admire it.

“It’s really no trouble. Oh and uh, one more thing?” Dean nods in the direction of Ophis. “Keep that thing as far away from me as possible.”

“Jack!”

~.~

“Dad. Daaaaad. _Dad!”_

Dad snaps his head back. But it’s not because of me. The capuchin monkeys get really feisty when they don’t get their food right away. One snatches the apple out of Dad’s hands while he’s busy staring at—“Who, what?”

“Dean’s fine, Dad.”

Dad’s face immediately reddens. “I’m just... concerned about his safety.”

“He’s five feet from the ground—how much danger can he possibly get in?”

“Plenty!” he argues. “He can break his wrist, arm, leg, bust a hip…”

“I think the only thing busting is your cool, Dad.”

“I’ll have you know—”

“What? That you were in the top of your class at being cool too?” I laugh.

“No, that I was voted Most Likely to Succeed—and look at me now.” He says this as one monkey’s clawing into his pant leg and another is resting on his shoulder, picking at his hair. “I’m succeeding at shutting down this conversation. Hand me another apple.”

~.~

I meant it when I said I don’t understand some pop-culture references.

So when I see a grown man in my backyard holding his arms out to the lions as if he’s trying to summon the force, I either wonder if he needs his head checked or if heatstroke’s taken another victim.

Dad and I had to move the lions temporarily to another empty enclosure while the new one’s being built, which… it should be. Right now.

Maybe someone should go outside and tell Dean Barnum and Bailey isn’t a thing anymore, but I just passed Yoshi in Mario Kart for the lead and you’d have to _actually_ be crazy to pause.

“Knock knock.”

I don’t get why adults do that. Voice-knock. And then they come in anyway, before I can even state my approval. But then Dad gets mad at me when _I_ don’t physically knock on his door. Between my dad and Steve Irwin in my backyard, I don’t know who’s worse. I pause my game.

“Homework finished?”

“Yeapp.”

“Did you shower?”

“Yeapp.”

Dad makes a sucking in sound with his teeth. “I appreciate the due-diligence, but you have the panda this week, remember?”

I sigh. Once every week, it’s my responsibility to clean up Norman’s poop. It’s not too dirty, but if you’re not careful… well, there’s nothing worse than poop _and_ grass stains on your clothes. “I’ll be out in five.”

 “Thanks, kiddo. What’s up for dinner?”

“Mmm. The fish sticks meal from Pirate Pete’s?” The nice thing about Poop Patrol is Dad lets me choose dinner that day—as long as it’s not just nougat, which is fine by me. Once you live on a zoo, anything that even slightly reminds you of poop isn’t your favorite food anymore.

“You got it.” Dad gives me a wink before he heads back down the hall.

I finish out the race and set my controller down. I make sure to change into a different shirt—one I don’t mind getting stained. I choose my Transformers 4 promotional shirt. (Dad and I saw it once in theatres—and _only_ once.) Then, grabbing a few plastic bags from the kitchen cabinet, I head out.

Halfway into pickup, I hear Dean, who’s still doing… something. Except now he’s yelling at the lions.

“Stand down!”

One of the lions growls. If he wasn’t behind the fence, I would have to pull him out so he wouldn’t be mauled to death. And they tell _me_ I have a wild imagination.

“Hey, _hey—_ what did I just say?!” he continues. “Back up! Good, good.”

Just after he gets those last two words out, Zeus (named after the lightning bolt scar on his hind leg) runs full-speed towards the gate. He even uplifts it a little off the ground when his claws meet it on impact. Dean jumps back, landing ten feet away and straight on his butt.

If only Dad had been looking at him now. I can’t control my laughter.

He spots me and carefully picks himself up, even dusting the dirt off his flannel and boots. When he makes his way towards me, I have to purse my lips to keep my laugh in. But that’s not enough.

“Um… just let your dad know I’m gonna have to re-root the temporary fencing.”

I nod in understanding, but a grin spills over. “You got it, Boss.”

~.~

I used to like lakes.

Even though I think Dad hates it, when Mom was alive, he’d take us fishing. I only think he hates it because every time I’d catch a fish, he’d congratulate me, and then tell me to put it back in the water. He’d say that fish will serve some greater purpose. I’m still not sure if he was talking about himself or the fish. I don’t think he knew either. But it’s fine by me. I don’t think I could eat something that was questioning my life decisions.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Abby. She’s just a pain to clean. You have to get under her ears and belly, between her hind legs. And she _hates_ being wet. Yeapp. An elephant who hates being wet. Just to remind us, every few seconds, she’ll fill up her trunk and wag it around like a hose. Luckily, I’m on her back and Dad is underneath her trunk.

At least until Dean takes his shirt off and Dad’s just… gone. His mouth is ready for the dentist and his body’s ready for the morgue after he takes a few, zombie-like steps forward.

Somehow, from a good distance away, Dean must feel Dad’s gaze on him. He turns his head and smiles a little as he waves.

Before rigor mortis can set in, Dad raises his hand and waves back.

“Dad!”

A single, furious stream of a water rains over him like a busted showerhead.

Dean throws his head back and laughs.

Then Abby slaps Dad across the back of his head. He goes down like a domino.

Luckily, the water is shallow on this end, but that doesn’t stop the lake from defending itself, because when I rush to help Dad up, I notice the blood streaming from his nose. I try to prop him up, but he staggers forward, nearly taking me down with him. It doesn’t help that Abby’s making waves with her tail.

A second pair of feet rushes up behind us. Dean uses his body as a barrier between the angry water and my dad. Once they’re both steady, he slides an arm around Dad’s shoulder.

I guide Dean into the guest house, where he carefully sets my dad down and says to me, “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get some first aid supplies from my bag.”

I nod quickly and shift my focus back to Dad. He doesn’t seem to be in life-threatening danger. He’s mostly just disoriented. Maybe he has a concussion, but I don’t really know. I’ve never known anyone that’s had a concussion. For the longest time, I thought you had to have a big red, bulging bump on your head like in Tom and Jerry to be diagnosed with a concussion.

My lack of knowledge of the world brings back that creeping feeling of powerlessness. At least I manage to grab a towel from the bathroom to wrap around him.

He looks up and smiles at me, and this smile is different. It’s not forced. And for a brief second, even as his nosebleed is crusting around his mouth and the skin on his nose (what’s left anyway) is turning purple, he’s happy, and some of my self-doubt slips away.

I jump when Dean bursts through the door. He sets a first aid kit and a lunch box on the table and throws himself in the chair across from Dad. Despite how panicky he’s been, he’s really methodical in everything he does next. Unzipping the lunch box, he removes a napkin and icepack. After wrapping the napkin around the icepack, he has my dad lean forward, supporting him with a hand on his back, and presses the compress against his nose. Dad and I flinch at the same time.

With his free hand, he reaches into the first aid kit for a small, noisy bottle. He pops the cap off and takes out a water bottle from the same lunch box before handing it to Dad. Dad sips carefully and pulls back when he can’t hold his breath anymore. When he looks up again, it’s directly into Dean’s eyes and I swear my dad ducks his head back down.

“I’m gonna get another towel,” I declare.

When I return, I hear them talking and for some reason, instead of going back inside, I stop just before the door and listen in.

“I always have a first aid kit on me,” I hear Dean say. “In my line of work, you never know.”

“I _told_ him,” my dad responds.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I roll my eyes.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking...”

“Why did I choose to invest in a zoo?”

“Yeah.” I can hear Dean scoff. “Yeah, I mean, after the Milton’s left, people were avoiding this place like the plague. No one wanted to keep up the maintenance on so much property; let alone turn it into Noah’s Ark.”

The Milton’s. I remember them. Up until a few months ago, they were the owners of the place. I remember the mom, Anna, was not happy to find out my dad was turning it into a zoo. She had lava red hair and angry green eyes. They had a daughter named Hael. She was pretty, but kinda scary. We met them the weekend of Halloween and Hael was dressed up as this girl from this really old horror movie. I guess she was supposed to be a telekinetic, but the fake blood she covered herself in gave off an entirely different vibe.

After that sidetrack, I’m not sure how much time had passed before Dad answers: “My wife passed away last year. She was a vet back home. She was great at what she did and... I don’t know. Jack was struggling at his old school. I had some money saved from my job. I was tired of grieving—and being reminded of her at every corner—and I guess in a weird way, I thought this would honor her.”

“I don’t think it’s weird at all.”

Dad must be doing that squinty thing with his eyes because Dean changes his answer:

“Well, I mean, it’s a bit... eccentric.”

“That’s better.”

“What you’re doing for these animals though... it’s a super cool thing to do. And Jack seems to like it.”

“I hope he does,” Dad says with a sigh. “He’s a good kid. He’s just hard to read, you know. Ever since his mom... I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m doing it all wrong. Kelly was the best.”

“I get that. My mom passed at a young age too.”

“God, I’m sorry. How did you cope with that?”

“I focused on Sam. My brother,” he clarifies. “Our dad was gone most of the time, so any opportunity I had to take care of him, I took—feeding him, clothing him, bathing him, putting on his favorite episode of Dragon Tales. Mainly to distract myself and feel a little less powerless to the whole thing.”

I feel a small smile making its way to my face.

“That explains why you’re so good with this stuff,” Dad says.

“God, that kid was a magnet for accidents,” Dean scoffs. “I rode him to the ER on my handlebars once.”

My dad actually laughs. It’s so soft, I almost can’t hear it, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “Thank you, by the way.”

“No problem.”

You can say I have a sixth sense for weird stuff is gonna happen, so I round the corner. Sure enough, the two of them are making googley-eyes at each other.

You know, until Dean drives Dad to the hospital.

~.~

We haven’t had a lot of visitors since we moved into the new place. Most people are either weirded out by the animals or disgusted by the smell. So when we get a knock on our door Saturday morning, it’s jarring, to say the least. But I’m not surprised to see Dean behind it.

“Hey Jack! Can I come in?”

I nod. We’re way past stranger danger—and I’m eleven. So I let him in.

“You excited for today?”

He seems happier than normal, but not so happy he’s talking to lions, which is good. “You bet. A whole day full of strangers walking around in my backyard. Every kid’s dream.”

“Funny,” Dean says with a grin, and that’s when I notice the bouquet of flowers in his left hand, “but kinda true. Is your dad here?”

“Yeah. **_DAD!_** _”_

I step back as Dad trades me places. Unlike me, Dad notices the flowers immediately.

“Hey.”

“Um… hi.” Dad tilts his head to the side, but he’s grinning too.

“How’s your nose?”

Dad shrugs. “As best as broken can be.”

Dean nods with a small frown. “Yeah.”

“Sorry, I, uh…” Dad scoffs, and I’m honestly kinda concerned. I’ve never seen him smile so much in a year; let alone in the last minute. “I just didn’t expect you. I thought the fence was done?”

“Oh no, yeah, of course,” Dean reassures, thrusting out the flowers. “I just wanted to wish you guys good luck.”

Dad’s eyes and mouth go wide as he accepts the bouquet. “Oh, I… thank you, you didn’t have to. Really, you’ve already done me a big enough favor.”

Dean shifts his gaze to his boots. “Well, in that case, I don’t feel so bad about asking you for one _tinier_ thing…”

Dad keeps the flowers tucked close to his chest. “Yeah?”

“Well… I was wondering if you’d like to, maybe… accompany me on a date later tonight?”

“ _And_ you’re paying me dinner?” Dad shakes his head fiercely. “No, no. If we’re going on a date, _I’m_ paying. I don’t want any more of your money.” He pauses to smile. “But I will graciously accept more of your time.”

Dean’s whole face lights up a bright red. “Okay. Cool. Well, I better be heading out.”

“No, please stay,” Dad insists. “I can spot you one more ticket. After all… we wouldn’t want our lions running amok without the world-renown Owen Grady by our side.”

Dean snaps his head to me. “Really?”

I shrug, but not without grinning too.

“Alright,” Dad says, “Jack, grab the guides. It’s showtime.”

 

 

 

“It doesn’t make greyhounds any less unique. It just makes them a top competitor to giraffes. But giraffes—dare I say it—don’t have the _neck_ to go up against a greyhound.” Dad can’t hide his grin that’s _not_ supposed to be there. The guests reassure him of this. I don’t think I’ve understood the meaning of silence is loud until now. “You know, because they’re really timid animals. That being said, move quietly around the enclosure and please refrain from petting them…”

Dad cuts through the crowd to stand next to me. “How am I doing?”

I throw him an overly enthusiastic thumb up.

“Okay, Roger Ebert. Do you want to give the introduction for the panda?”

“Norman?”

Dad narrows his eyes. _Shoot._

“I, um…”

“Do you like the name Norman?”

I look up at him. There’s something different in his eyes. They’ve always been kind, even though he hasn’t been so kind to himself. But now… now it’s like someone turned on a light in an ocean that’s been dark for a year.

I nod.

He grabs my shoulder and says, “You call him Norman then.”

After throwing him a smile, I confidently head off in the opposite direction. When enough people gather around his enclosure, I gesture to Norman, who’s currently hanging from a split tree with a content smile on his face. “This is Norman. He’s a panda. I don’t know any cool facts about him, but I do know his poop is _absolutely_ disgusting. But he’s eating more greens than me, so.”

That gets a chuckle out of a few people.  

Norman lets out a high-pitched neigh.

I just sorta wander around the place for a while after that awkward introduction, adding commentary and answering questions wherever I can for the guests. It’s a great day for the zoo. The sun isn’t French-kissing my skin for once. Instead, it’s hugging it the way an estranged uncle would hug you at a random family reunion. There’s a light breeze strong enough to move the trees and the bushes, but light enough to leave the animals undisturbed and blissful. Even the sloths are moving a little quicker to catch some of the morning sunshine.

It’s hard to believe this place was an open pasture with nothing to show for but a slide and swing set. Now its seventy-acre span is home to over a dozen wild and endangered species and counting, fed and cared for by… well, us. And to see hundreds of people support that is actually really cool. (But don’t tell Dad I said that.)

Somehow, I end up at the lion exhibit. Dean’s standing next to it with his hands on his hips like Superman. I can’t read his expression, but his V isn’t there at least.

“Are you okay?”

Dean turns to me and a smile breaks out across his face. That’s when I notice his freckles. “Yeah,” he says, turning to me nodding, “Yeah, I’m… uh… I’m really good, actually.”

I side-eye him in mock-suspicion. I may be eleven, but I know things. “Okay.”

“You put this up?” a second voice says from the other side of him. It belongs to a tall man with shoulder-length brown hair. In one humongous hand, he holds a woman with even longer brown hair. In the other, a toddler who I assume is Magda, their daughter and the lion fanatic. Not only are her eyes the same sparkling shade of brown as her parents—she practically has her own invisible trampoline underneath her when one of the lions gets up.

Dean scoffs, “Yeah, Sammy, can you believe it?”

“What a commission,” the man, Sammy, says. “I bet that was a good payout.”

Dean’s eyes meet my dad’s. Dad smiles before ducking his head.

“So,” Dad says, making his way over to us, “you must be the brother, and his wife.”

“Sam,” Sammy introduces with an extended hand.

“Eileen,” his wife introduces soon after.

Dad bends down behind Magda, who’s still freaking out over the lions. I’d be freaked out too, but not in a good way. Seriously, those cats would swallow her whole if they weren’t such puppies.

“And this little angel must be Magda,” he says, grinning ear-to-ear. It’s weird seeing him interact with a younger kid. It reminds me of how he used to be, when Mom was alive. Full of life as much as—if not more than—Magda.

Dad’s not offended when Magda pays him no attention. In fact, he jokes about it. “I know, I know. This cast is _much_ scarier than those bad boys.”

We laugh.

As he stands back up, he’s met by Dean again. “You did fantastic.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Dad replies.

It’s as if the words “not so bad” are the trigger. Because one of the lions takes off at full speed towards the gate. And not just towards the gate. Towards the gate, right in front of Magda.

Sam and Eileen race to pull their daughter back a few feet, but it’s not enough, and the lion is coming quick. Without second thought, I throw myself in front of her as the lion rams into the gate.

I’m afraid to open my eyes I didn’t even know I closed, but I know I have to. I can’t feel anything except my racing heart, so that’s a good sign.

Sure enough, I see the lion’s claws wrapped around the metal wiring. And, of course, Magda being Magda, holding out her tiny hand. The lion licks it. Magda giggles.

We all breathe a sigh of relief before Dean asks me, “Jack, why did you do that?”

“I… I don’t know,” I decide. But then I change my answer: “I guess I was tired of being powerless.”

Dean fist-bumps me. Dad taps him on the shoulder and then Dean and Dad are doing that thing Mary-Jane did to Peter Parker that I didn’t get to see because of him, and now I get why. Kissing is really, really gross.

But so is picking up panda poop, so I’ll let it slide.

 

For now.

 

 

 


End file.
